


Or Must I Imagine You There

by roseandheather



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Neal Stops Being An Idiot, Post-Finale, The Author Is Really Mean to Grace, The Author Isn't Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6470905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/roseandheather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I won't be anyone's second choice."</p><p>When Christa finally lays down the law, Neal has to choose between his past and his future.</p><p>It takes him approximately ten seconds to make up his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Or Must I Imagine You There

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iris_Celeno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iris_Celeno/gifts).



> Dear everyone who's been begging me for another Christeal-only fic and/or to fix the finale mess: you're welcome. ;)

_"I won't be anybody's second choice."_

He doesn't think he's ever been this stunned in his life.

Or this angry.

All he can do, for a good five minutes, is stare after her as his life walks away.

But when he finally breaks from the shock, he starts moving. And this time he knows _exactly_ where he's going.

~*~

By the end of his shift, he's ready to bite someone's head off. Perhaps - and with damn good reason - his own, first.

_How could I have been so **stupid?**_

_Isn't it obvious?_ Leanne's voice is so clear in his mind, she could have been standing next to him.  _You thought she already knew she wasn't._ Again, as if she's standing there, he can practically hear her eyes rolling.  ** _Men._**

_Leanne, what do I do?_

_What you're always nagging me to do,_ Leanne's - shadow? spirit? inner head voice? says tartly. _Talk about it!_

 _Right,_ thinks Neal. _Time to clear a few things up._

"Dr. Adams!" he snaps, and sees her turn around in surprise. "We need to talk."

"Neal? What is it?" She's all soft, curious eyes, and perversely, that just makes him angrier.

"That's Dr. Hudson to you," he says curtly. "And come with me."

An empty exam room serves their purposes well enough; he flips the light on, leaves the door open a crack so she won't get any ideas, and turns around.

"All right, Dr. Hudson," she says, stressing his title as if she's humoring him. "What's the matter?"

Sighing, he runs his fingers through his hair. "I don't know what you think you're doing here," he says bluntly, "but in case you haven't noticed, I am in a relationship. With somebody who is not you. And _you_ can't seem to accept that. Did you just expect me to _wait_ for you? Did you honestly believe you could run off to Haiti for a year - after _turning down my marriage proposal_ \- and then just come back and pick up where we left off?"

One glance at her stricken eyes tells him that she had, in fact, expected precisely that.

"Do you know what Christa said to me earlier today? _Do you?_ She said, 'I won't be anybody's second choice.' _That's_ what she thinks of me now. Of _herself._ That she's just - a fill in. That I'm only with her because you left, and that I'd leave her for you now that you're back.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't still have some unresolved issues where you're concerned. But just in case it isn't clear, you and I are _over._ **You** made sure of that, when you took off for Haiti after breaking my heart."

"But can't you still feel it? You're not over me. We're not over each other." Grace looks up at him, all big brown eyes and soft smile that at one time would have had him melting at her feet.

He is not that man any more.

"I won't deny that I'm not over what you did to me, and that's my fault. There's a lot from our past I haven't dealt with like I should have done. But let me make it very clear, once and for all, that I am most definitely over _you._ And I have been since about ten seconds after the first time I laid eyes on Christa Lorenson."

"Neal," she says softly, and he _glares._

"Dr. Hudson," she amends, holding up her hands in self-defense. "I'm sorry if she thinks that. I didn't mean to cause any problems - "

"Well, it doesn't bloody well _matter_ what you _meant,_ does it? What matters is that you've made the - you know what? No. You do _not_ get to hear me say those words before she does. I'm not going there. Suffice it to say, Dr. Adams, that you've shown yourself consistently unable to recognize that when you left, we _ended._ For _good._ And if you continue to demonstrate such, I will have no qualms whatever in speaking to HR. From this moment on, you and I are professional co-workers, nothing more. We will not interact on a personal level. We will not speak to each other except in the context of our jobs. I will continue to give my all to my patients and to assist you in any necessary professional capacity, but our relationship - such as it is, and what there is of it - ends there. Do I make myself quite clear?"

"But you still want me, don't you?" She leans forward, trying to put a hand on his arm, and he jerks away.

"I _want_ you to undo the damage you did a year ago!" he snaps. "But that isn't going to happen. I've been unable to accept that, and that inability has adversely affected my relationship with Christa in too many ways. That ends _now._ Let me spell things out for you, Dr. Adams: Christa just asked me to choose between you and her. Not in so many words, of course, because she has far too much class and kindness for that, but that's the gist of it. And I'm choosing her. _Her._ Today, and tomorrow, and for the rest of my life."

She has nothing to say to that, staring at him open-mouthed.

 _Finally,_ he thinks, and feels lighter than he has in months.

"That will be all," he says dismissively, in imitation of his father at his haughtiest, and stares her down.

She bows her head and leaves the room with a quiet, "Understood, Dr. Hudson."

 _Good job,_ says his inner Leanne, profound satisfaction in her (his?) voice. _Now, time for part two._

~*~

"Angus," he says politely, "have you seen Dr. Lorenson anywhere?"

Angus eyes him suspiciously. "Are you going to make her cry again?" he asks, eyes narrowed protectively.

_Ouch._

"Not in a bad way," he admits. "I hope."

Angus nods slowly. "She's on the roof."

A rush of relief pouring through his veins, he pats Angus on the shoulder in wordless thanks and makes a beeline for the stairs.

"Christa?" he asks softly, pushing the door open.

She whirls around, pressing herself against the railing. "What do you want?" Her voice is harsh - with crying, anger, fear, or maybe all three at once - and he flinches.

_You deserved that. Moron._

"You're not my second choice," he says, bluntly. "You never have been. Christa... can we talk?"

She studies him for a long minute, blue eyes laser focused, and then she indicates a chair - one not too close to the one she chooses, he notices, but he'll take it.

"Alright," she says, crossing her arms and legs and leaning back. "Talk."

Taking a deep breath, he opens his mouth. And - as he should have done weeks ago - he talks. _Really_ talks, about the confusion, the anger, the pain. About how he buried himself in work to hide from the wreckage of his life. About how just being with her, working with her, having her beside him, has made him believe in love again. About how he felt when Grace returned - what did she want? Could she undo the hurt? Did he even want her to? - and about the paralyzing fear that anything he said would be the wrong thing. About how the thought of losing her scared him more than he could handle. About how sorry he is for letting his past cloud their future. About how it wasn't Grace he wanted back, but how her presence made the still-bleeding part of him that never healed think that maybe, just maybe, she would undo the hurt she'd caused him.

He tells her _everything -_ about his conversation with Grace in the exam room, about how her ultimatum had brought into focus for the first time the fact that he'd been trying to recapture the past when he should have been focused on his future, about how angry and disappointed in himself he was that he'd let fear and grief overrule his trust in her. That it had never been _about_ a lack of trust in her, but about the pain of still-raw memories talking about Grace brought back.

About how he's an idiot who doesn't deserve her, but he knows what he wants now, and it's the same thing he's wanted since the moment her mask came off in quarantine and his heart stopped beating.

That the only future he wants is the one with her beside him.

By the time he finishes, she's crying openly, and he holds his breath and waits.

"You really fucked up," she says, and he blinks in surprise, because he has _never_ heard Christa use that word before.

"I know," he manages.

"I'm gonna be really mad at you for awhile."

"That's entirely fair."

She pauses. "You really told her that you were choosing me over her? Every day?"

"I did. Quite forcefully."

"You're such an _ass,_ " she chokes, and flings herself at him.

He snatches her to him with a wordless groan of thanks. She fits as perfectly in his arms as she ever did, clutching him and sobbing into his shoulder, and he closes his eyes as the flood of relief rushes through him in a tide that would have buckled his knees if he'd been standing.

"I don't deserve you," he murmurs hoarsely in her ear, his own throat thick with tears. "But I'll spend every day trying to."

"I'm setting ground rules," she says at last, when their tears have mostly stopped, and looks him in the eyes. "Well, one, really. No more hiding. Whatever it is, whatever issues you have, concerns, fears, whatever - you _talk_ to me about it. Understand? I don't care how much it hurts, for either of us. We _talk,_ Neal. I'm not doing this again. I'm not sitting her wondering and waiting what you're thinking. We _talk._ Do I make myself quite clear?"

"Yeah," he says, and despite the pain, despite the trust he still has to earn back, despite how _massively_ he knows he's screwed up, he has to smile. "You do." Gently, he reaches out to touch her cheek, and to his giddy delight, she doesn't flinch away. "Anything, Christa. _Anything._ You're worth it."

 _"We're_ worth it," she corrects, and finally, _finally_ kisses him.

"Take me home," she says roughly, some few minutes later. "And take me to bed."

He nods, slowly, and reaches out to run a trembling hand over her hair. "As you wish."

For the first time since everything began, she smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Iris, whose gorgeous writing and even more gorgeous and insightful comments finally dragged this out of me.
> 
> Confession: this is shameless idfic. It's not going to be this easy for them, and in canon, I hope it isn't. But just this once, I want to indulge in just getting back to them being happy.
> 
> I probably ought to apologize for how much I vilified Grace, but... uh. No. Not happening. I am ride-or-die Team Christa/Neal and I have no shame about it.
> 
> I hope I didn't disappoint.


End file.
